That Shattered Feeling
by Rifecat96
Summary: Like just being there wasn't bad enough, Noodle ended up leading a slew of assassins straight to Paula Cracker's front door, forcing the two of them to flee. Continuation of Blinking Pigs.


**Writer's note:**

**Give me gay Noodle or give me death**

**-Love, Cat**

* * *

_**Was it the blue night**_  
_**Gone fragile**_  
_**Was it about the men**_  
_**In wonder steady gone under**_  
_**Was it the light ways**_  
_**So frightening**_  
_**Was it a two wills**_  
_**One mirror holding us dearer now**_

-Little Dragon

* * *

Paula Cracker bit her nails. She tried to ignore the dull pounding in her lower abdomen. Her second-hand (third-hand? Fourth-hand?) car had come to a halt at the side of a road. She had been driving since noon, in attempt to lose the goons in the black van who had been on their tail. It seemed as though they had finally lost their pursuers, but she still couldn't relax.

She glanced at the dash board of her car and saw it was nearly out of gas. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. Her companion spoke from behind her.

"I'm.." Noodle began, and her voice trailed off. Paula cringed. She attempted to block her out.

"I'm sorry." Noodle swallowed.

Paula gritted her teeth. A feeling of revulsion welled up in the pit of her stomach. Sorry was a stupid word. Sorry was not going to replace her shattered apartment windows or fix her bullet-ridden furniture. It wasn't going to restore what little sense of security she once had.

"It's not.. so bad. I will pay you back all the damages as soon as I get back to the band."

Paula sank further into her state of despair; all the money in the world meant nothing to her if it came from the pocket of Murdoc Niccals.

"You can keep your money." She said through her teeth.

"No.. what happened today was my fault and I-"

"Shut up."

At least the kid knew when to stop trying to carry on a conversation. Paula heard her shift in the back seat. She started the engine, hoping to find a gas station nearby.

Tension. Tension. There was always tension. It caked between her muscles and made her bones heavy. Her period felt like lead boiling inside of her. She had downed three painkiller tablets that morning to no avail.

She turned on the radio in attempt to drown her own rage. She flicked between stations and came to rest at a song by Estelle. Paula looked at the rearview mirror. All that was visible from the back seat were Noodle's knees and the edge of her peppermint striped socks. It was almost 7:30. They had been driving for half a day.

"What do they want from you?" The question was out of her like a bullet.

"I can't tell you." Said the knees. "It will make you a target."

"More of a target than I am now?"

"Yeah."

Paula found a gas station just in time. As the car was filled, Noodle zipped in and out of the convenience store, and returned with a water bottle, two sandwiches and a pack of sanitary pads.

"I thought you'd want these."

"Thanks." The word came out bitter and dry.

Soon they were back on the road- but Paula still had no idea where they were going. According to Noodle it didn't matter. What mattered was that the hit men didn't catch up to them.

Paula thought about the suitcase that Noodle had carried into her house the day she had arrived. She hadn't even thought to ask her what was in it. A Tommy gun. The kid had carried a Tommy gun into her home under her nose. And now they were on the run from who knows what.

What had that two-bit teeny bopper gotten herself into?

"Do you even know where Plastic Beach is?"

"Of course I do. Murdoc blabbed the coordinates all of the internet. Like a total arse."

Paula snorted. " And how do you suppose you're going to get there?"

"I don't know."

The uncertainty in her voice was very apparent. She was presumed dead, had very little money, only one friend (if Paula could be referred to as such) who she could rely on (again, up for debate). On another note she didn't want to involve anybody else with her "little problem" (that being the mysterious crazies who were after her blood). The kid was in deep shit. It was a situation of total isolation, one that Paula was familiar with.

It was time to change the subject.

"Do you dress like an Icelandic stage performer because you're in disguise or because you want to sleep with girls?"

"Yes."

"Did you get that scar on your eye from the mob?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're a fucking case, that's what you are."

"Yeah."

They didn't talk anymore and the radio played on.

_"..new album from Gorillaz.."_

Paula heard Noodle shoot up from the back seat.

"…To Binge, _featuring Yukimi Nagano of Little Dragon_.."

"Who's that?"

"I don't know. I don't know every Japanese musician, stop assuming that I do."

"Maybe she's supposed to represent you on the album."

"Why? Because she's Asian? Nobody represents me in Gorillaz except for me."

"And Cyborg Noodle."

"Shut up!"

Paula did shut up, but it wasn't on Noodle's account. She was very absorbed in the song all of a sudden. She was speechless.

_"…I wait to be forgiven, maybe I never will  
my star has left me to take the bitter pill  
that shattered feeling well the cause of it's a lesson learned  
just don't know if I can roll into the sea again  
just don't know if I could do it all again…"_

It was then Noodle realized the car wasn't moving.

"Why did you stop?"

Paula didn't answer.

"Why-?"

"Caught again… rolling in and caugh- THAT SON OF A BITCH!"

And just like that she was outside the car, having a mental breakdown.

"Mother-fucking-BASTARD!" With each word she kicked violently at the front tire. "Mother-fucking-SWINE!"

"Paula!" Noodle took her arm and she swatted her away.

"He's-he's FILTH!"

"Who?"

"Murdoc BLEEDING NICCALS!" Paula shrieked. The accursed name lingered in the air for a long, thick moment until it evaporated away. "He's HORSE SHITE! He's- he's a LEECH! He's never written an original line in his LIFE! He can't even play BASS!"

"Wait-"

"He attaches himself to more talented people and he-he SUCKS everything out of them! He passes off everyone else's genius as his own! Russel's, and Stuart's, and-"

"Paula, please calm down!"

"And you, too!" Her voice broke. Her whole body ached from running and menstruating and yelling. "He doesn't deserve you. He thinks he can build a Barbie doll out of garbage and replace you with it. But he can't. You're too good for him."

Noodle didn't reply.

"You know it's the truth." Paula leaned back against her busted old car. "You shouldn't go back. Just let him stew in his own filthy juice."

Noodle appeared to consider that.

"You're right. I know Murdoc can be… very abusive of his position… and the people he works with. I've known that for a very long time… but.."

"But.." Paula echoed, not even looking at her.

"I'm not stupid. I know the risks that come with… dealing with a person like him… and as much as he believes it is _his_ band… it's my band too. And… I can't just…"

"You can't just walk away." Paula was on the ground now, her legs splayed out in front of her. "I think that's the real difference between us."

Noodle sat beside her.

"What is?"

"You can always go back. To anyone. Any time. And they'll always welcome you with open arms."

Noodle rested her head on Paula's shoulder.

"I always thought… that if you just believe in that someone will forgive… then they will not turn away from you."

"It's not that easy." Paula's eyes glossed over and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She sniffed. "Don't you think we should find a place to sleep?"

"I kind of like it here." Noodle gazed up at the sky; the stars were out.

"It is nice, isn't it?"

So they sat together at the side of the road for a long time. When they finally got up to drive away they didn't need to talk. They were ok.


End file.
